


Little Spider

by missgaley



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Black Widow origin story, Brainwashing, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Death, Child Murder, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Harm to Children, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kid Natasha, Loss of Parent(s), Natasha Feels, Natasha Needs a Hug, Natasha-centric, Origin Story, Origins, Orphans, POV Natasha Romanov, Parent Death, Past Torture, Past Violence, Psychological Torture, Red Room, Self-Harm, Sexual Abuse, Soviet Union, Spies & Secret Agents, Survival, Survivor Guilt, Training, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgaley/pseuds/missgaley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-MCU. Natalia Romanova was three years old when her parents died. Instead of growing up in a little apartment in Volgograd, Natalia was one of 28 girls trained during the end of the Cold War in a KGB facility called the "Red Room". Before she was the Black Widow, she was just Natalia. But as time progressed, she wasn't even sure who that was anymore. [Black Widow Origin Story]</p><p>[Potential for rating change.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1987

_This origin story is in no way affiliated with Marvel Comics or Marvel Studios. The contents of this story will contain a mixture of comic background, as well as that which has been revealed to date in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but may be considered entirely canon-divergent._

Chapter One

* * *

" _Even death has a heart." — Markus Zusak (The Book Thief)_

* * *

Volgograd, Russia — 1987

The Romanov family home was a peaceful one. At exactly five o'clock each evening, Avdotya Romanova would put supper on the stove and Alian Romanov would return home to his family. Little Natalia Romanova would sit at her mother's feet, playing with a small doll her father had once made for her shortly after she had been born. Together, they would eat supper at the kitchen table and Alian would tell his wife about his day while asking Natalia about hers. The little girl would babble on about her three-year-old adventures while Avdotya would fill in the blanks that Natalia left out.

Life in the Romanov family home could not have been much simpler. There was a mother and her child; a father with a steady job, a wife, and a daughter he could dote on; and a little girl whose only care in the world was which ribbon would go best with her Sunday dress. Despite living under the ever-watchful eye of the Soviet Union, there was no reason to think that anything could change the Romanov family's quiet lifestyle.

It was late one December night when Alian and his wife were just getting ready for bed. Natalia had been put down for the night, snuggled safely in her bed under a homemade quilt, her doll tucked securely in her arms. As they did every night, both mother and father kissed their daughter goodnight and closed the door, ready to settle in for the evening. This night had been no different. Alian read an old copy of an English newspaper,  _The Moscow News_ , and did a crossword he had been working on for some time with his feet resting on the coffee table. Avdotya would sit nearby, reading a novel, eyeing her husband each time she saw his feet return to the wooden surface after gently reprimanding him. They had retired together at an early hour and slowly made their way to their bedroom.

"Oleg spoke of leaving again today," Alian said suddenly, startling Avdotya, who sat in front of her vanity to brush her hair.

"Alian! The walls have ears!" she chastised.

It was dangerous to speak too freely, even in one's home. The KGB were always listening. Phones were monitored and apartments were bugged. But Alian often spoke out, against his wife's warnings. They rarely argued but Alian knew that she disapproved. He shook his head.

"Dunya, the rations are only getting worse. Oleg thinks that if we try to leave, we might find a better life in the West. What about Natalia? Don't you want her to have a better life than this?"

The simple life of the Romanov family was just that: simple. But life under the careful guard of the Soviet Union was a risky life to live too. In such a militarized state, one had to be careful where and how far they stepped. It was not idyllic but it was a life. Still, it didn't keep some from wondering what would be waiting for them on the other side of Russia's iron curtain. Alain was one of them and the men he worked with were likeminded. Avdotya turned around and glared, a gaze that could make many men shrink in fear. Her hair was the same colour as the fire in her soul, Alain often said.

"Alain, stop. Whatever Oleg says, that is Oleg. We have a good life here. We have a safe life. Natalia will grow up with a warm home and food in her belly. You work  _hard_ , Alian. You provide for her  _here_. What do you think will happen if we try to leave? What will happen to Natalia then?"

The couple fell silent and Alian sighed. His wife was right, as she always was. He worked hard to provide his family with the money to live a comfortable life. There was always food on the table, no matter how little. They had a roof over their heads and heat to keep them warm. They did not live in Moscow, where the better wealth was, but they did well. And they had Natalia. She was the light of their lives and that was something to be thankful for.

"I want мой маленький паук to grow up  _well_ ," Alian lamented.

Avdotya stood slowly and crossed the room to where her husband stood. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his cheek.

"Natalia will grow up well with you as her father. You will protect her, Alian."

He pressed a kiss to his wife's head and enveloped her into a hug. Avdotya nestled her head into his chest and together they settled into bed for the night. They were in silent agreement — they would not speak of this again. They could not risk the consequences of the KGB overhearing them. They had been lucky so far. They had no way of knowing if it would ever last.

* * *

Avdotya woke to the smell of smoke and the feeling of her lungs struggling for air. She blinked slowly, roused by the intensity of the heat in their small apartment. She sat up with a start, coughing as the smoke continued to smother her. Their room was still dark but the smoke was seeping in through the crack beneath the door. She coughed again, shaking her husband.

"Alian! Alian, there's a fire!"

The smoke was too thick and Avdotya could see the flickering light from the flames from underneath the bedroom door. She shook her husband again but got no response. She placed a hand over his mouth and nose. She felt nothing.

"Alian!  _Alian, get up!_ "

She shook him violently, trying to rouse him from a sleep he would not wake from. The smoke had taken him faster. Somehow she had woken first and now she was trapped, alone in their room. In her panic, another thought struck her:

Natalia.

It wasn't long before she heard the strangled wail of her daughter from the next room. While the sound normally would have caused Avdotya's heart to stop in fear, this time it was with relief. A scream meant that Natalia was still breathing. She threw back the covers and ran towards the door in just her bare feet and a nightgown. She went to grasp the doorknob and gasped when the hot metal burnt her hand. She felt tears forming in her eyes but she couldn't waste another second on the pain. She looked around and saw a towel hanging over the edge of the empty washing basin. She grabbed it and forced the bedroom door open with her hands safely wrapped in the towel. The sight that greeted her was terrifying.

Flames licked at the walls, travelling across the floor towards her bedroom door. Avdotya stepped out into the hallway, nearly choking on the smoke that continued to force itself down her throat and into her nose. She rushed forward, nearly tripping over her own feet, desperately trying to make it to Natalia's room. The little girl was screeching for her father now. Avdotya grasped the doorknob with the towel and pushed against the door with her shoulder. As she forced it open, she heard a devastating crack and dove forward just as the doorframe collapsed around her. She looked up from the floor and saw Natalia in her bed, doll clutched to her chest, staring at her with terror in her hazel eyes.

"Come here, Natalia," Avdotya called out softly, trying to calm the puffy-faced girl as she pulled herself to her feet.

Natalia ran straight into her arms. Avdotya lifted her onto her hip and pressed a kiss to her daughter's red curls. She could feel the heat of the flames on her back and knew they were never going to leave this room. She looked over her shoulder and the fire had already completely devoured the doorframe, filling the hallway outside. Soon, it would fill the room and they would both perish. Avdotya whimpered. She had prayed for so long for a better life for her family, no matter how many times she told Alian that they were just fine as they were. And this was their punishment. They had been heard, not by God, but by the KGB. No one would ever know who was behind the fire. It would be written off as an accident, an unfortunate kitchen fire or a gas leak. No one would know their names. No one would know that a three-year-old girl had died here. Avdotya held her daughter tightly. In her arms, Natalia squirmed, coughing. Her tiny lungs could not take much more.

Avdotya could not just let her child die here. She was innocent; too innocent.

She rushed to the window and lifted it open. The cold winter air rushed in and for a brief moment, they could breathe. But it did not last for long. The smoke was still overwhelming, even with a new way of escape. Avdotya looked down. They were on the third floor of their building. There was no way of jumping without breaking both of their necks. It was then that Avdotya saw the flashlights coming their way. The flames were making their way into the bedroom. Avdotya screamed for help.

"Dunya?" a voice called up.

" _Ivan!"_

Avdotya sighed with relief. Down below, a group of men were staring up at her. They exchanged words quickly and one man — Ivan — nodded.

"Throw her down! We will catch her, I promse!"

Avdotya blinked, taking a moment to realize what he meant. Natalia was looking up at her with wide eyes that stung from the smoke. Avdotya took a deep breath. It was a mother's worst fear: an impossible decision in order to save her child. Dropping her child from the third storey of a burning building was no less dangerous than trying to force their way through the fire itself. What if Ivan missed? What if Natalia—

No, she couldn't think like that. If there was even the smallest chance of saving Natalia, she had to take it.

"Наташа," Avdotya murmured.

Natalia looked up at her mother.

"You're going to fall a long way," she explained. Natalia started squirming even more, mouth open as if to start screaming. "No, Natalia. It's the only way. Ivan is below. You remember Ivan? He's a friend. He will catch you."

And then she called down to Ivan, blocking out her daughter's cries. She couldn't listen. She couldn't listen to the words coming from her daughter's mouth.  _Don't,_ _M_ _ама, don't!_ Over and over, Natalia screamed.

And then Avdotya let her fall.

* * *

Strong arms caught Natalia. Her screams did not stop, however. She wanted her mother. She had her doll in a death grip, having refused to let go of it the entire time. She sobbed into the doll's hair, the yarn itchy against her cheek.

"Hush, Natalia. No need for that noise."

Natalia sniffled and as soon as she closed her mouth, she hiccuped. She looked up at the man holding her. He had a long beard and dark eyes. They were not gentle like her father's. They were hard and cold, like the ground below.

She suddenly looked up, back toward the apartment building.

"Mама?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Where was her mother?

"We must go now, Natalia."

Carrying Natalia in his arms, Ivan began walking away. Natalia struggled against him. Where was her mother? Where was her father? Why was this man taking her away? She wailed again.

" _Mамочка_ _!"_

All the while, Ivan kept walking. At one point, he stopped and turned, calling out to the men behind him.

"Make sure the building burns to the ground. The KGB wants no trace of it left behind. Don't rescue anyone who has not already made it out. Volgograd will soon forget the Romanovs."

And then he continued on his way. His heavy footsteps crunched through the snow underfoot. Natalia shivered in her nightgown, hugging her doll to her chest. She had called out two more times for her mother but even then, she did not appear. The apartment disappearing behind them and soon they were at the side of the road, waiting for a black car that pulled up beside them. Ivan opened the door and placed Natalia in the backseat. He paused, looking down at her doll, and promptly pulled it from her hands.

"You won't be needing this anymore."

He tossed it to the ground where it fell into a gutter.

Ivan got into the passenger's seat and all went quiet. Natalia began to cry again, muffling her tears with her sleeve. As the car pulled away, she struggled to look out the window. Off in the distance, she could still see the orange flames. Her father had not come. Her mother had not come. And so Natalia screamed again, pulling at her hair and kicking the seat in front of her. Ivan cursed and tried to silence her but Natalia would not be persuaded. Eventually, she felt something rip away in her hands. She looked down at the lock of hair in her hands, as orange as the flames behind them. She tossed it onto the floor of the car and balled her little hands into fists.

The last thing Natalia could remember of that night was the sound of a tortured woman calling out her name.

* * *

* мой маленький паук — my little spider  
* Наташа — Natasha  
* Mама/Mамочка — mama


	2. 1990

Chapter Two

* * *

" _Order is power."_ _—_ _Henri Frederic Amiel_

* * *

The Red Room, 1990

Together they formed two long lines, fourteen girls in each. They shared one large shower room and while one line went left, the other went right. Of the seven showers on each side, seven girls would go in while seven girls would brush their teeth. When the seven showered girls emerged, the other seven would take their place and the process would be reversed. They had no clothes and no towels. Those were waiting back in their rooms for them, folded after the previous night's laundering. Laundry happened twice a week but sometimes only once if the maids were instructed to leave it be. Dirty clothes were a punishment. And the girls tried to avoid punishments.

When they were finished, the girls would once again form their two long lines of fourteen girls each and were escorted back to their rooms. There were four girls to a room, often of various ages. They were not all far apart in age but sometimes a few years separated them. Natalia was one of the two youngest. She and Marta, one of her roommates, were only six.

Natalia dressed quickly, adjusting her uniform so that it was free of any wrinkles. They were given knee-length shorts, a short-sleeved collared blouse, and a red neckerchief that was to be tied exactly as taught. Girls here did not wear skirts as they were considered impractical. Their blouses were white and their shorts were beige. They were given plain white socks and black penny loafers. For physical training, the girls wore entirely different uniforms but during the rest of the day, they were expected to look neat and tidy. When Natalia finally slipped on her shoes, Marta was by her side, waiting for her to be ready.

Together, they left the room and fell into line with the other girls. They were on their way to breakfast, where they would have twenty minutes to eat and socialize. Socializing was kept to a minimum, only to be used to discuss their lessons or training. Behind her, Marta tugged on a damp lock of Natalia's hair.

"I heard from Yelena that there might be sausage tonight," Marta whispered.

Natalia stiffened. They weren't allowed to talk in line. She turned her head slightly, hushing Marta.

"Be quiet or they'll hear you."

Marta looked down at the floor, silencing herself. Natalia felt bad for talking to her friend like that. Marta  _was_ her friend, or at least, the closest thing to a friend that they could have here. One day, they would be enemies too. All the girls would. Only one girl would come out on top in the end, even if they all took their place as assassins for the KGB. In the end, only one would earn the true Black Widow title. Natalia knew that it would never be her. She was small and she was weak. But she was obedient so she would survive.

But Marta's words had caught her attention. Yelena was nine and the unofficial leader of the other girls. She was charismatic and persuasive, even at her young age. She knew how to frighten the other girls just as well as she could comfort them. Natalia didn't like her. She could be cruel and then sweet in a blink of the eye. Natalia would not fall for such trickery. But she wondered if Yelena was right. Sausage would be a treat. The Red Room rarely gave out rewards — surviving the week without a cut or bruise was a reward itself — but sometimes there were nights where dinner was something nice like sausage or fresh vegetables.

Or perhaps they simply did not want the girls to starve. Dead girls would be of no use to them. Natalia straightened as she passed one of their instructors, a harsh woman with a gaze of steel. She often watched Natalia specifically. It was unnerving. It was as if she knew exactly what Natalia was thinking. Natalia squared her shoulders and kept her expression guarded. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw her instructor nod.

In the cafeteria, they lined up for their meals. This morning was some concoction that Natalia could barely identify. There was bread and milk and… it looked like  _kasha_ but Natalia couldn't be entirely certain. But it was food and she could hear her stomach growling. She glanced around in horror, hoping no one else heard it as well. She took her tray and found a seat at a nearby table, alone. Natalia was like that — she didn't want to get to know any of the other girls. One day, they would all be enemies, she always reminded herself. There was no reason to get close.

But Marta came and sat down with her anyways. Marta was a small, doe-eyed girl — even smaller than Natalia. She always wore her plain, brown hair in two long braids and her face was covered in soft freckles. She always had a kind expression on her face, one that Natalia pitied. Marta would not last long. But she was Natalia's only friend and so she never said anything about it.

Marta came to the Red Room a month after Natalia. Both the girls were too young to start training right away but that did not mean they did not have their lessons. Together, they took classes in English, mathematics, and ballet. The other girls did too, but they were already farther ahead. Marta and Natalia stuck together and when Marta struggled, Natalia helped her. At first, the instructors let them be. They were too young to understand the importance of surviving on their own but they would learn quickly. For the first year, the girls were inseparable. When Natalia cried at night, Marta would come to her bed and hug her. When Marta cried, Natalia did the same.

But when the punishments came, it stopped. Natalia no longer cried but Marta did. When Marta cried, Natalia pretended that she was asleep. By the time she turned four years old, she knew that affection was a weakness. There would be no one to hold her when she cried, only a slap to the face. One night, when Marta's sobs were too loud, Natalia got up and hit her too. She didn't see the night matron in the doorway, watching with silent approval. Natalia immediately felt the shame in what she had done but she didn't apologize. She simply crawled back into bed and went back to sleep. When morning came, neither girl spoke of what happened. In fact, it was never spoken of again. But from then on, Marta listened when Natalia spoke. Natalia was in charge and that was that.

Natalia ate her breakfast in silence while Marta rambled on about their ballet classes. The instructors insisted that the girls take ballet. It was to develop strength and discipline. Most of all, it taught subtlety and finesse. If they could dance like a prima ballerina, they could kill with the grace of an artist. Once, Natalia had thought that it was sickening. But she loved to dance. And now it was her favourite lesson of the day. An hour of dance in the morning and an hour of dance in the evening. No matter what else happened during the day, she could always look forward to dancing. If her feet hurt, she endured. If she fell, Natalia got back up. She was the best dancer of all twenty-eight girls.

* * *

After dancing, they always had their daily English lessons. Sometimes they watched English language films and cartoons. Natalia was fond of the Disney ones, especially Snow White. The first time she had seen it, the nightmare scene had frightened her. But now it no longer bothered her. Fear was a weakness that she could not give into, especially from a film. There were worse monsters in the world and some of them were the same girls that she saw everyday.

Today they were learning the American Pledge of Allegiance. All American children her age knew it and now so would she. Together, each girl recited it, over and over, until it was memorized. It was short and not difficult to remember, Natalia thought. One by one, each girl was asked to recite it by themselves, in flawless American English. When it was Natalia's turn, she swallowed nervously. Her Russian accent always escaped her when she spoke English. This time it wouldn't, she promised herself. She would sound like a true American girl.

The instructor came forward to stand in front of Natalia. It was the same woman from before, with the steel eyes and permanent frown, who loomed over Natalia. Natalia tried not to feel intimidated as she began.

" _I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all,_ " she recited precisely in English.

Natalia swallowed again. She knew it had not been perfect. One again, she could hear her Russian accent slipping through. She had started off well but the further along she got, the more her training slipped. She winced when her instructor glared down upon her.

"Is that what you call an American accent, Natalia?" Usually they only spoke English in this room but when their instructor got angry, she always spoke Russian. "Answer me! In English!"

" _No, ma'am,_ " Natalia responded quietly, although she stood tall and unwavering.

This time, her accent did not slip.

Their instructor paced in front of Natalia and she could feel all the other girls' eyes on her. If this were America, she was certain the other girls would have laughed at her. Often they saw photographs and films of American students in their colourful classrooms. They had no discipline or rules. When teachers saw a student misbehaving, they gave them warnings instead of punishments. Those children looked happy and free but Natalia knew they were only naïve and stupid. They would never survive here if they were in the Red Room.

"Come here, Natalia."

Natalia froze at those words. The instructor was at her desk in the front of the classroom and Natalia walked stiffly forward. She knew what was coming. If they were to be punished, it was done in front of all of the other girls. If they cried, they would be punished again for all to see.  _That_ was their warning in the Red Room. They did not get off with only a couple of words. They watched their peers' punishments and promised themselves that they would do well enough to avoid their own.

Natalia held out her hand, as if someone had pulled the strings of puppet and forced her to obey. She could already see the ruler on the desk and she steeled herself for what was to happen next. She would not cry, not like she used to. Natalia no longer cried, that was a rule. For as long as she lived, Natalia swore that she would never cry again.

The ruler came down quickly and if Natalia focused hard enough, she could almost ignore the pain as the skin across her knuckles cracked and bled. The skin around them would be dark and bruised for several days. She counted in her head each time the ruler came down.  _Odin, dva, tri, chetyre... pyat'…_  and then it was over and Natalia had not shed a tear or made even one sound. Her instructor pulled a hankerchief from the desk drawer and handed it to Natalia, who grasped it with shaky hands. Without a word, she returned to her desk, dabbing at her bleeding knuckles with the hankerchief until she was satisfied that they would not bleed anymore. She would clean and bandage them later. In the past, Marta helped her. Now Natalia did it by herself.

* * *

By supper, Natalia had wrapped her hands and the pain was only minimal. An infirmary nurse had come to check on her but did not offer any help. In the Red Room, the infirmary was only to be used in the case of an emergency or more brutal punishments. While the nurses were required to check on the girls, they did not have to offer any sort of aid for minor injuries.

"Young girls must learn to withstand pain," the headmistress of the Red Room had said to Natalia when she had first arrived there. "Without pain, you will be weak and coddled. We will not raise weak and coddled girls. If you cannot withstand pain, you will die."

Natalia had been too young to understand then. Now she did.

She took her supper to her usual table. Tonight it was a bland mixture of potatoes, bread, some sort of meat that looked more like boiled leather, and hot tea. Yelena had been wrong after all. She was almost certain that the other girls were whispering behind her back but Natalia would not join them. She had already caused enough trouble for the day. She would not face Yelena's wrath as well.

Marta joined her again, poking at her meat with a perplexed expression that made Natalia want to laugh but she didn't. Laughter was not a common sound in the Red Room anymore. When all the girls were much younger, they had still laughed. As they got older, the laughter faded. Marta eventually started to eat without complaint and Natalia followed suit. Dinner was a longer affair — forty minutes instead of twenty — but most of the girls were too tired to cause much of a commotion, just as those in charge of the Red Room liked it.

"Tanya got the batog today," Marta whispered quietly and Natalia looked up in fright.

Tatiana — or Tanya, as Marta called her — was the second oldest girl in the Red Room. And she was a troublemaker. She liked to pick fights with the other girls outside of their training. That was frowned upon. Depending on the severity, sometimes small fights went unnoticed but it must have been big if Tatiana had been caught and punished for it. The batog was the most feared punishment in the Red Room. They had only been told of the batog — it was an old Russian form of corporal punishment — but none of the girls had experienced it. At least they hadn't until today.

"What did she do?" Natalia whispered back.

Marta shook her head, glancing around, before responding quickly.

"She broke Irina's arm during hand-to-hand training."

Natalia frowned. It was not uncommon to suffer injuries during that kind of training. She tilted her head to the side and Marta continued.

"She didn't stop. She nearly strangled Irina before the instructors had to pull her off. She just snapped, according to Yelena."

Natalia's eyes widened. Each of the girls here was different. The only thing they had in common was that they were all orphans. But while some girls were placid and kind, like Marta, others had tempers. Natalia wasn't sure which kind of girl she was. She was quiet but she did her best to stand up for herself against the others. In the Red Room, girls grew up quickly. It didn't matter that she was only six, she was as viciously trained as the rest of them and just as intelligent, if not more so than the older girls like Yelena. But she never said that. It would only cause trouble that Natalia did not need. But she was certainly not like Tatiana.

She would never be like Tatiana, she decided.

* * *

That night, all was quiet in their room. Marta had fallen asleep within minutes and Irina was in the infirmary. Natalia and Katya were the only other occupants. Natalia listened to the sound of Katya's breathing in the bunk above her. She was not asleep either but Natalia said nothing. Talking at night was forbidden. Even when she and Marta had cried as children, their comforts had been silent. So she was surprised when Katya spoke up in a hushed tone.

"The Pledge of Allegiance," she whispered. "Say it slowly. Olga Ivanovna doesn't notice. It will help."

Olga Ivanovna was their English instructor, the same one who had bruised Natalia's knuckles. Natalia didn't respond but she took note of the advice. She disliked asking for help so she never did. But if it was offered, she wasn't going to turn it down. The next time she recited the Pledge of Allegiance, it would be perfect, she told herself.

Katya did not speak again. Natalia settled under her blanket, pulling it up to her chin with her one free hand. Even though they were handcuffed to the headboard each night for as long as Natalia could remember, she felt safe that way. When she was tucked underneath her blanket, she felt like the little girl she was supposed to be. She thought back to all the lessons they had been taught on American culture. Little American girls always had smiles on their faces. Often they held things like dolls or ice cream in their small hands. Natalia wondered what ice cream actually tasted like. One day, when she would finally go to America, she decided the first thing she would do would be to try real ice cream.

Finally closing her eyes, for the first time in a long time, Natalia thought about her parents. She couldn't remember what they looked like anymore. She could not remember her father's eyes or her mother's smile. At least, she assumed her mother must have smiled. Maybe she hadn't. Maybe she was the type of mother who hit Natalia when she was bad. It would not have been any different from what instructors like Olga Ivanovna did to her here, she supposed, but Natalia wondered what it would be like to be hit by a mother. Surely mothers were not supposed to do those kinds of things… but she would never know because her mother was dead.

They had no use for mothers in the Red Room. Here they trained hard and learned to live with their cuts and scrapes with no one to kiss them better. Mothers only coddled their children, Natalia had been told. And because of that, Natalia was glad her mother was dead. She decided that a mother would only make her weak.

And Natalia would not be weak.


	3. 1992-1993

Chapter Three

* * *

" _Great and good are seldom the same man."_ _—_ _Winston Churchill_

* * *

The Red Room — 1992-1993

After the dissolution of the U.S.S.R. in December of 1991, the KGB was said to have fallen. It had already been a year and yet they were as active as they could ever be. They operated in secret, under unofficial orders from those who still held even a fraction of their former Soviet power. Through that alone, the plans of the Red Room continued.

Of course, none of the girls had ever expected anything different. They had been told not to worry, that they were protected as long as they were strong. The Red Room only operated  _more_  efficiently now; there was a cause to be upheld, no matter the circumstances that had befallen them.

As the girls got older, they only became more dangerous. It meant nothing that Russia was changing around them. Within the walls of the Red Room, Soviet Russia was still very much alive. One day, the former glory of the U.S.S.R. would be restored, they said, and then Russia would only have the KGB and the children of the Red Room to thank for it. But eventually the news died down and the strange thrill of a new era became nothing but a distant memory.

When Natalia entered the cafeteria one morning, however, there was a buzz that she had not witnessed since that day one year ago, when the world had broken the news of the end of the final Cold War. She sat across from Marta, as she had for years now, and looked between her friend and Alexandra, another girl that Marta had charmed over. If Marta were not so genuinely kind-hearted from the start, Natalia would have commended her for her skills. But it wasn't skill — it was simply Marta. And that made her weak, just as she had always been. Nothing would ever change that.

"They're bringing in a new instructor," Alexandra explained with a hint of excitement in her hushed whisper.

Natalia raised an eyebrow. They got new instructors all the time, especially for combat training as it was said to better prepare them for the real world where no two people truly fought alike. This was hardly any sort of surprise, so Natalia went back to her breakfast, disinterested.

"It's a man this time," Marta added and Natalia looked up again.

_That_ was certainly different. The only men in the Red Room were the doctors. The girls each saw them once a week now that the procedures had begun. Natalia didn't quite understand what these procedures were really for but they often involved vials of unknown 'medicines' or odd memory 'tests' that left Natalia feeling funny afterward. She didn't mind the injections but the way that they played with her head always made her feel strange. All Natalia knew was that, so far, one girl had gone to her weekly 'check up', as they were called, and she had never come back.

But to hear of a male instructor was unexpected. Even their combat instructors were women who had been secretly trained by the KGB during the war. They were good and looked upon with the highest respect, but the goals of the Red Room were of a different sort, they were told. Natalia did not know  _how_ different.

"Who is he?" Natalia asked, even though she had been planning to keep silent.

She didn't like to gossip, even though the other girls did. Dynamics were changing amongst the girls now and it seemed as if the strict order that had been imposed when they were younger was becoming more lenient. But Natalia knew that there had to be a purpose for this. The older girls were forming rivalries. They still knew their routines and their manners, and acting out was  _never_ tolerated, but things changed a little more by the day and Natalia kept track of it all. Soon it would be unavoidable but, for now, she kept her head down.

"A man in a mask," Alexandra replied with a shrug. "I caught a glimpse of him earlier but that's all I saw. And he has a metal arm."

Natalia tilted her head. A metal arm? She was curious but she wasn't going to ask any questions. It was unlikely either of the girls across from her knew any of the answers anyway. But she did have one question that perhaps they  _could_ answer.

"What is his name?"

"The Winter Soldier," Marta replied.

* * *

Natalia tried to sneak glimpses at every chance she could. During her morning ballet lesson, she saw him outside the observation window. Olga Ivanovna and another unfamiliar man were leading him around, clearly showing him the facility. Every so often, she snuck a peek at him while doing her barre work. It was as if he could sense the presence of two hazel eyes watching him and he looked up, staring directly at Natalia. She barely stifled a gasp and quickly looked away, focusing on her exercises intently for the next few minutes.

When she turned around again, he was gone.

* * *

Their first training session with the Winter Soldier had been an intimidating one. Even the oldest girls seemed to shrink in his presence. When they did, they were immediately reprimanded. Natalia, however, stood tall. After their brief moment of earlier eye contact, she was determined not to shy away again. So when he looked at her a second time, Natalia did not flinch or look away.

Ever so slightly, he nodded in approval.

First was sparring. Today, all twenty-eight girls were present in the training room. There would be sixteen matches and, for the first time, Natalia was up first. Her opponent? Yelena.

Yelena was older, bigger, and stronger. And worse, Natalia had never fought against her. But she was not about to lose. She might have been younger and much smaller but one thing that Natalia had learned was that she was fast and she was flexible. Yelena had recently gone through a growth spurt and, like many young girls were as they grew, she was suddenly gangly and awkward. It would not last for long — they all adapted quickly — but Natalia could use it to her advantage. As she and Yelena took their places across from one another, Natalia couldn't help but smile.

"Don't get cocky, дитя́," Yelena jeered.

A glare from their new instructor silenced the older girl and the match began. Both girls were experts beyond their years. In only two short years, Natalia had gone from being the weak child that had barely started her combat training to one of the best in the Red Room. There had been some chatter amongst their instructors that Natalia had overheard — she had made the most improvement of all the girls there and it had come as nothing short of a shock. Now she was holding her own against Yelena, blocking the most vicious of punches and delivering several harsh blows of her own. Yelena hadn't counted on Natalia's ability to dodge as quickly as she could. Yelena snarled and Natalia ignored her, countering yet another attack. At one point, Natalia's hair tie had slipped loose and now her red curls whipped around her each time she moved to avoid a blow. But the distraction had cost her and suddenly Yelena had her arm around Natalia's throat.

Natalia struggled and Yelena strengthened her grip. They were allowed to use as much force as necessary but it was up to their instructors to intervene should they decide to once the match had clearly been won. Natalia could feel the air being blocked from her lungs and she thrashed, trying to get Yelena to let her go. There were black spots forming in her vision and Natalia looked over towards their instructor.

The Winter Soldier showed no sign of stepping in. Natalia immediately knew that he would allow this fight to continue to the death should he so choose. Natalia knew exactly why he had been brought in as their new instructor — their training was only going to get harder from now on. And Natalia was going to die if she was not the best. So she thought quickly and she did something that any eight-year-old girl would do, training to be a killer or not. She forced her head to the side and found Yelena's hand. And then she bit down –  _hard_.

Yelena practically screeched and yanked her hand away, cradling it against her chest as Natalia stumbled forward to her freedom. While Yelena was busy yelling at her, screaming about how it wasn't fair and that Natalia was fighting dirty, Natalia was already planning her next move. She couldn't stop to catch her breath or Yelena would finally come at her with everything she had. So Natalia moved first, running forward and spinning into a high kick that hit Yelena directly in the chest. The other girl stumbled and fell and Natalia was on top of her before Yelena could even push herself to her knees. Natalia grabbed her blonde ponytail, forcing her head back.

"Хватит."

Both girls stopped struggling, heads turning to face the Winter Soldier. It was the first word any of them had heard him say. Even when he had chosen Natalia and Yelena, he had simply gestured to each of them and they had immediately known exactly what he expected of them. Natalia still hadn't let go of Yelena's ponytail. The Winter Soldier simply stared at her.

"Хватит," he repeated firmly.

Natalia finally let go and rolled off of Yelena. She almost offered the other girl a hand up but decided otherwise. She stalked off, back to her place amongst the other girls. As she passed their new instructor, she heard him say something. It was low and faint but she knew it was for her.

"Good. But messy."

* * *

The training continued into the new year. By the spring, none of the girls shrank from the Winter Soldier's presence. By summer, his presence was considered to be the norm. He wasn't always there, of course. He came and he went. When he wasn't there, Natalia found herself missing his training sessions. She knew he had been keeping an eye on her and Natalia wondered why. But she didn't think that she would ever get her answer.

By late November, Natalia's birthday had passed. Birthdays were not celebrated in the Red Room. The only reason she knew what day of the year it was was because of her annual physical. She was nine years old now. For six years, she had lived in the Red Room. And now, she could not remember anything from before. Sometimes she wondered if the twenty-second of November was even her real birthday. She had no way of knowing for sure.

It was her turn for her weekly check up and one of the day matrons, the women who were in charge of the daily chores that were not performed by the instructors or the girls, led her through the halls. The girls were required to do many things for themselves but their training took precedence and someone else always had to do the rest. But the matrons also accompanied the girls everywhere they went — especially to and from check ups. Natalia had noticed that some of the girls tried to escape or hide when their turns came each week. One more girl had not come back. Natalia did not care.

This week, they started with the memory tests. The week prior, they had showed Natalia a series of photographs, too quick for her to even process. They had administered two more vials of unknown 'medicine' and sent Natalia on her way. Last week had seemed easy in comparison to before. Natalia wondered if she was simply no longer bothered by the tests that they were running.

She was wrong.

This time, they showed her the first photograph and the first one only. Natalia stared at it, as if experiencing some strange sensation of having been there before. Of course she had, she reminded herself. She had been sitting in this exact chair only a week ago. But then the images had been too quick. This time she saw every detail and she remembered each and every one of them. She didn't know how.

"Can you describe the rest of the images, Natalia?"

How? She had barely seen them. But before she could open her mouth to ask what they meant, she  _did_ remember. Staring at the first image, she saw  _all_ of the images. At first, it felt like she was seeing them all at once. All the details, jumbled together. Her head started to hurt. She clawed at her temples, trying to un-see each image as it reappeared over and over in her memory. How could she remember things she had barely seen? Natalia whimpered.

"Focus, Natalia. The medicines we have given you— they enhance your memories. What you think you have seen for only a fleeting moment, you can remember exactly. You must focus, remember them each in turn."

So Natalia did. As she described each image, the doctors showed them to her one by one, confirming her recollections. But when they came to the end of the slides, Natalia frowned. They had showed her only ten slides. She remembered eleven.

"One is missing."

Heads in the room turned to look at her. Natalia looked around, confused by the staring.

"There was one more. A farmhouse. It was red, with peeling paint. There were three chickens by the steps and a dog sitting on the stoop. The door was open but only by an inch. It was cloudy as if it were about to rain and someone was in one of the upstairs windows, closing it. There was a tractor in the background and it was starting to rust—"

One of the doctors stopped her there.

"Do you remember this, Natalia?"

"Yes." She was confused. Of course she remembered it, just like each of the other images. Why were they asking her such a silly question? "It was with all the other photographs."

"Good, Natalia, that's good. Now what do you remember  _after_ we showed you these images?"

Natalia frowned. She thought back. All they had done was give her another needle and then she had been escorted back to her training. She repeated this for them and there were a series of nods.

"Natalia, we will be right back."

Natalia turned in her chair, suddenly frightened. Had she said something wrong? She watched them all gather in the back of the room, speaking in hushed voices. Natalia squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the sounds. If she concentrated very carefully, she could make out their hurried Russian words. These days, they were only supposed to speak English.

"— _she remembers perfectly_ _—_ _"_

"— _but she does not remember the time between the injection and leaving this room_ _—_ _"_

"— _the false memories worked just as we had hoped and she appears to feel no harmful side effects_ _—_ _"_

"— _and wiping her memories proved just as effective as replacing them_ _—_ _"_

Natalia opened her eyes and watched as the conversation came to a satisfied lull and she quickly turned back around in her chair. What did that mean… 'false memories'? She  _knew_  she had seen the image of the farmhouse. They had just said that they had enhanced her memories so that she could recall more detail. Of course they would do that. She was training to be a spy and an assassin. Details were essential. She must have heard them wrong, Natalia decided. Perhaps they had been talking about someone else? Maybe one of the other girls who had  _failed_ the tests. Natalia could not have failed. They must have simply lost the last slide.

Finally, they moved on. There were two more injections, just as Natalia had expected. One of them made her feel strangely sleepy but as fast as the feeling overcame her, it vanished. Natalia blinked and the room righted itself. Her head hurt and she felt… fuzzy? But she had come to expect these sensations. One of the doctors nodded and she hopped out of her chair. When she was escorted out into the hallway, none of the matrons were there. She turned to see who had escorted her out but they had already left and closed the door behind her. Natalia wondered if she should wait but she knew her way back. She was supposed to be in an American history lesson right now. She could make it there by herself, she decided.

All of her thoughts felt muffled — more than usual. Walking down the hallway by herself, Natalia stumbled. She went to grip the wall for support but missed, her fingers grasping at nothing. Just as she thought that she was going to fall, something strong wrapped around her arm and pulled her upright. Natalia looked down, only to be greeted by the sight of metal. Not just regular metal but metal fingers.

She looked up to see the Winter Soldier hovering over her. She nodded, mumbling a small apology and then a thank you. The Winter Soldier frowned. He did not have his mask on, Natalia noticed. She had never seen him without it.

"Do not apologize for weakness."

There was a pause and Natalia did not respond, unsure of what to say.

"Use it instead," he explained.

Use her weakness? Natalia did not understand. Weakness was something she had to  _overcome_ not  _use._ But she nodded, as if she had understood perfectly, and went to continue on her way back to her lesson. Even so, only a few steps forward and she could still feel eyes watching her. She turned around again. Did he want something?

"You have many weaknesses, Natalia." When he spoke, Natalia glared as deadly as glare as a nine-year-old could muster and she could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on the Winter Soldier's lips when she did. "And yet you are the best of everyone else here."

What did he mean  _now_? He spoke in riddles and Natalia did not like it. Whatever he was trying to say to her, she did not understand. Maybe she was not supposed to or maybe she was. Natalia didn't care. Her head still felt strange and she wanted to go sit down and focus on something else. But when he did not turn to leave, Natalia felt compelled to ask something that she had always wondered and yet never dared speak aloud. Her disorientation must have made her bold.

"What is your name?"

If the Winter Soldier thought this out of line, he did not show it. In fact, his brow furrowed and he took a moment before he even answered. Natalia thought that to be curious. It was the same expression she had marred her own face when asked to recall the photographs during her test. Did he not remember?

"It's James," he finally responded.

Natalia could not quite tell if there was a hint of hesitance in his voice. It was almost as if no one had asked him this in a very long time. That was sad, she thought, to have no one ask your name. She knew it was sad, because no one had ever bothered to ask hers when she had first arrived here. But James… that was an English name, wasn't it? She had learned a little bit about English names. James came from the Hebrew Jacob, in the Bible. Here in Russia, they would have called him  _Yakov_.

"Just James?" she asked.

The Winter Soldier nodded once and then turned away, as if to finally leave. Natalia couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed. He was an interesting man, she decided. She wanted to know more but knew that asking questions could be dangerous. Some questions gave you important answers. Others could only bring about trouble. She looked down at the floor.

"You have classes, Natalia," he said, voice once again stern.

Natalia almost jumped and nodded fiercely. She would be late and she would get in more trouble if anyone found out that she had not been escorted. She hurried off in the other direction, mind full of questions. For the rest of the day, her head was filled with thoughts of the Winter Soldier and ten perfectly memorized images.

* * *

*  _дитя́_  — child  
*  _Хватит_  — enough


	4. 1994

Chapter Four

* * *

" _Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices."_ _—_ _Alfred A. Montapert_

* * *

Moscow, Russia — 1994

It was quiet here. Natalia looked in the mirror, her knees pulled up to her chest, staring at the skinny redhead looking back at her. She didn't recognize the girl. She rarely saw her own appearance. It was the appearance of a real person and when Natalia tilted her head, so did the red-haired girl. Curious green eyes stared back at her, blinking when Natalia did. Her hair was getting too long — it was messy. Natalia didn't like it. She looked away from the mirror; she didn't like the girl who stared back at her. Natalia didn't know her. They weren't the same. That girl looked sad and helpless. Natalia was neither of those things. She was determined. She was strong. That other girl was just weak.

She pulled herself to her feet, taking off her loafers and sliding her feet into her pointe shoes. Tying the ribbons securely, she started to move. There was no music here, not at this time of night, but she didn't need it. All she wanted was to dance. She saw the photos on the walls of the pretty Bolshoi ballerinas and Natalia decided that she was one of those pictures, not the small girl in the mirror. She moved gracefully through the studio, sweeping across the floor to music only she could hear. But she kept one eye on the clock. She could only stay for so long — an hour at most.

But it was an hour of freedom. Not long ago, Natalia had discovered the truck that left at night, headed for the city to get the food and supplies that kept the Red Room alive. And she had begun sneaking out, making it on and off of the truck before anyone noticed her and doing the same when it was time to go back. She knew that she could get into trouble. It was the kind of trouble that none of the girls would dare risk — except Natalia. She wanted to see where ballerinas really practiced and dance in a real studio. And it was beautiful. She never wanted to leave. But then reality set back in and the hour was up and Natalia had to run back to the truck, ballet shoes thrown over her shoulder, and it was back to the Red Room, hoping no one had noticed that she was gone.

Natalia paused, looking once more at the clock. She only had ten minutes left. Her arms fell to her sides and she decided to stop early this time. So she untied her shoes and slipped back into her loafers. They were so ugly in comparison to the soft pink fabric of her pointe shoes. Looking up, Natalia found herself looking back in the mirror. The same sad, weak little girl stood there, ballet shoes dangling in front of her. That girl would never become a ballerina, Natalia thought bitterly. Then she chastised herself. That girl wasn't meant to be a ballerina. She was going to be a spy — an assassin. She had no business wishing for things that would never be.

It didn't stop the sad sigh that escaped her as she headed back through one of the studio's windows, her way in and out of her secret haven. She shut the window behind her securely and took off running. She had to make it back to the truck.

* * *

The next morning, Marta was staring at her. Natalia glared and the other girl looked away for only a moment before she was staring again.

"You weren't here last night. I heard you coming back in. How do you do it?"

Natalia ignored her. Marta kept whispering questions at her and Natalia shoved food into her mouth so she could keep from answering. They were obvious questions such as 'how do you get out of the handcuffs?', the ones that were always attached to their bed frames at night. The  _answer_ should have been obvious. It had been painful at first but she had learned how to dislocate her thumb so that she could slip her hand in and out without anyone noticing. Now she could do it in complete silence. The pain was worth it for that one hour of freedom every night. But she didn't tell Marta this. It was none of her business. She knew Marta was her friend but she wasn't going to share her secret. It was Natalia's and Natalia's alone. And in the Red Room, she had learned not to trust anyone, even Marta. She couldn't risk Marta telling someone else.

Their day went about as usual. Natalia couldn't help but feel distracted. During her ballet lessons, all she could think about was the studio and how this was nothing in comparison. She had to keep from yelping when she received a slap in the face for losing her focus and not realizing when their instructor was talking. She looked up, her cheek stinging, and she could see the disappointment in her instructor's eyes. Natalia had never understood why she received those looks when the other girls only saw harsh eyes and heard rough words.

"You have the most potential, Natalia, focus!" she snapped.

The comment took her by surprise. That was the closest thing she had ever gotten to a compliment from one of her instructors — except for James, of course. No, not James. The Winter Soldier. She had never told anyone of their little conversation. Natalia was certain she was the only one who knew his name and she would keep that secret too. She got a bad feeling whenever she thought about what would happen if anyone found out. She had no way to explain it so she made sure to keep her mouth shut instead.

She felt another slap across her cheek and Natalia winced. Her instructor just shook her head and walked away, continuing the lesson. From then on, Natalia focused, forcefully keeping her thoughts from drifting. No matter how long the days felt lately, she had to focus.

* * *

Natalia felt the uncomfortable pop of her thumb as she wriggled out of her restraint and held her breath as she forced it to pop back into place. She vaguely wondered if she could do any permanent damage to her hand this way but nobody had seemed to notice what she was doing to herself so she decided that the answer was no. She found her loafers and ballet shoes and hurried out of the room. The advantage to being small was how light her footsteps were. She could practically run and make no noise. She snuck through the kitchens but stopped suddenly when she heard heavier footfalls that she knew did not belong to her. Spinning around, Natalia's eyes widened.

" _Marta_ ," she hissed, almost angrily.

She took in the other girl's appearance. Marta didn't shrink away from Natalia this time, merely holding up her head defiantly. She was holding her hand awkwardly and Natalia realized she must have stayed up, watching, and seen what Natalia had done. She winced in sympathy then shook her head, glaring again.

"Go away," she whispered.

"Take me with you," Marta said forcefully.

Natalia blinked in surprise. Marta almost never stood up for herself like this, even against Natalia. It had been established years ago that Natalia was in charge. Natalia had never really thought much of it but now it took her aback to witness Marta acting like this. She shook her head.

"No."

She would not let Marta come. It was enough of a risk going by herself.

"If you don't bring me, I'll tell."

Natalia watched her friend carefully. Marta was too timid for that but, then again, this was unlike her. Natalia pressed her lips together and finally nodded rigidly. She couldn't risk it. But then she saw the look in Marta's eyes. The other girl was always too easy to read. She just wanted to get out — she wanted to escape, just like Natalia, for a little while. Natalia urged her forward and helped her into the truck. Then they were on their way, into the city, for their one hour of freedom.

* * *

Marta was laughing. Natalia hadn't heard Marta laugh for a long time. The other girl spun about, not as gracefully as Natalia, but she was happy. Natalia stood near the window, watching her silently. She didn't really want to share her little haven but a part of her couldn't help but feel a little glad to have someone with her. She was glad to see someone smiling and not because they had hit their target or won a match during their training. She sunk down to the floor, just watching.

That caught Marta's attention. The other girl ran over, reaching for Natalia's hands. She pulled her friend up, tugging her to the center of the studio. They both stood in front of the mirror and Natalia took a good, long look at the scrawny redhead and mousy, doe-eyed girl by her side. Marta nudged her with a grin.

"Friends forever, right?" she asked, looking at Natalia in the mirror.

Natalia was quiet. For a moment the girls in the mirror just looked like two regular ten-year-olds. Their minds were older than that, Natalia knew, but their reflections were just an image of the girls they could have been. Natalia didn't know much outside of the Red Room but the mirror showed her something else that just felt… different.

"Right," she replied quietly. That seemed to satisfy Marta who took Natalia's hands and pulled her away from the mirror. Best friends, Natalia thought, even though she found the words foreign and uncomfortable. But, in a different world, that is what they would have been. Somehow, she knew that and, for the first time in a long time, Natalia wished she could have been someone different so those words could have meant something real.

They danced for the rest of their hour before Natalia warned Marta that they had to get back to the truck. They raced back, almost late, and scrambled into the back. But this time, something unexpected happened. The driver opened his door again, slamming it shut as he came around to the back. He must have forgotten something, Natalia thought in a panic. She ushered Marta further back, hoping they could hide properly. As the driver looked into the back, Natalia hardly dared to breathe.

It was too late.

"What on earth—" The driver stared in surprise then frowned. "Get out."

Natalia exchanged a look with Marta and together they obediently got out of the back of the truck. Immediately, the driver grabbed them both by the back of the collar and dragged them toward the cab. He told them to get in, the two girls squished together awkwardly on the passenger's side as they drove back to the Red Room. This was it, Natalia thought. She couldn't even blame Marta. It was inevitable that one day she would get caught.

The drive back was silent. The moment they returned, the driver forced them out of the cab, and grabbed them both roughly as he dragged them back inside. Marta whimpered and Natalia shot her a glare. But Marta was already struggling to get away. The driver shouted at her to stop squirming and that was what got the attention of one of the night matrons. When she saw the scene before her, she muttered something under her breath about getting the headmistress.

Natalia tried to push away the sensation of dread filling her belly. She closed her eyes and let the night matron lead them away. They were taken to a room Natalia knew all too well. She swallowed thickly. The night matron made them sit down on a bench across the room and said that she would be back. She locked the door behind her.

"I'm so sorry," Marta whispered.

Natalia just shook her head.

This room was the room she hated the most. An important part of their training as spies was the ability to withstand interrogation. It didn't matter that they were young. They were told that the younger they learned, the better equipped they would be to face whatever their enemies could throw at them. The older girls had been through this too. It didn't take much to explain what went on in this room. Slowly but surely, girls in the program were being weeded out. Natalia had not been one of them. It didn't matter what happened here; she would not be one of them.

The headmistress returned with Olga Ivanovna, the English instructor that Natalia had come to hate. They were followed by two men who had begun working with the girls in much of their training. They weren't the Winter Soldier but they were both brutal. Natalia had heard rumours that they were part of a program for boys, the Red Room's counterpart, but no one had ever said anything to confirm it. They had two small tubs of water. Natalia closed her eyes tightly. It wasn't a punishment, she told herself, it was just another part of her training.

_It was just another part of her training._

It wasn't much of a comfort when she felt her head forced underwater, held under until she could feel her lungs burning. The headmistress had been saying something, a lecture of some sort, but Natalia hadn't been listening. She was trying to remember how long she could hold her breath. She wasn't allowed to be scared and yet she was. Every time she was let up, gasping for air, she shot a glance toward Marta, just to see if she was still alive.

"Don't hurt her," Natalia found herself begging. "It wasn't her fault!"

"Weak," Olga Ivanovna muttered.

And then Natalia couldn't hear anymore. She opened her eyes underwater, barely able to see small bubbles as she exhaled too quickly. She felt like she was choking — suffocating even. She hadn't been prepared. There were black spots in her vision and she kicked out behind her viciously. She felt her foot hook around someone's ankle and she yanked them forward so when they stumbled off balance, they pulled her head up with them. She sputtered and coughed but she wasn't done yet. Natalia grabbed the man's arm, twisting it until she heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. She shoved him back violently, not caring that it was her sloppiest work ever.

As soon as he was down, she went after the other one, holding Marta down. He wasn't prepared for the way she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling her forearm tight against his trachea. She would never be able to break his neck, she knew that, but she could easily choke him to death. She kept her surprisingly strong hold until he went limp in her grip but that didn't stop her. Natalia waited. No one tried to pull her off of him. Finally, she knew he was gone. She practically felt his last breath leave his body and she pushed him away, staring.

Natalia had never killed anyone before.

She was breathing heavily, looking around the room frantically. The two older women were watching her with a look of… were they impressed? Natalia couldn't tell and she didn't care. She sunk to the floor next to Marta, looking down at her friend. She had to choke back a sob when she saw her friend's lips were practically blue.

"Marta…" she whispered. "Marta!"

And then Natalia was screaming, shaking her friend's body, trying to force her to wake up. She couldn't stop screaming, sobbing incoherent words when she realized that her friend was dead. She wanted to take back every word she had ever said about Marta being weak. Natalia wanted to take it all back if it meant that Marta would be alive. She had to take it back. Natalia shrieked when arms wrapped around her, trying to pull her away. She kicked and screamed, even going as far as to bite the arm closest to her. But they didn't flinch.

"Grab her legs," someone said.

And then she was in the infirmary, still sobbing. Olga Ivanovna was standing nearby, watching as the doctors and infirmary staff quickly restrained the girl. Natalia fought but she couldn't escape. She kept repeating 'bring her back' over and over again. Someone tried to comfort her, or at least that's what Natalia assumed they were trying to do. It wasn't working. Eventually, she felt a prick in her arm and everything felt drowsy again. She wouldn't let them. Natalia wouldn't let them do anything else to her. They had killed her friend, they had murdered…

When she woke up again, Natalia could hear the faint mutterings of doctors nearby. She was used to that. Everything ached. Her lungs hurt. That wasn't usually a part of her check ups. She groaned and someone turned toward her.

"She's awake."

They went about checking her vitals, their usual routine before the tests. But this time there would be no tests. As everything came back, Natalia kept silent. She couldn't cry again. Marta was dead. She looked up and Olga Ivanovna had been replaced by one of the night matrons. The woman came over to help Natalia up once permission was given to take her back to her room. Natalia stood and walked along beside the night matron without a word. She didn't know how much time had passed but clearly it was still nighttime because everyone else was asleep.

She lay down without argument, allowing herself to be cuffed to the bed once again. And then the night matron left. Natalia lay there in the dark, staring blankly at nothing. She kept twisting her wrist against the cuff, but she wasn't trying to escape again. This time, she just waited, letting it dig into her skin. After a little while, she could feel the blood running down her arm. She took a deep breath, trying to forget. But she couldn't and she knew it.

That night, all she could dream about was the sensation of drowning… but every single time, she lived. That was the worst part.

* * *

The Winter Soldier was back. Natalia was glad for it. It meant their training sessions would be harder than ever. Natalia relished it. After all, she had killed a man the night before. So when she trained the next day, something had changed. She was even more vicious, more brutal than ever. Her technique had improved over the last year, especially since the Winter Soldier had become one of her teachers. He seemed to pay special attention to her for reasons unknown. But it seemed even he was surprised by Natalia's performance this time around.

They were using knives this time and Natalia didn't even hesitate to send a sweeping blow across Yelena's cheek. As soon as blood was drawn, the match became near-lethal. And Natalia would have won too, if the Winter Soldier hadn't stopped her. She shrugged him off, walking away from the mat, ignoring the shocked look on Yelena's face as she wiped away blood, only smearing it further.

Natalia sat in their changing room, knife in hand still. She remembered the girl in the mirror with the messy hair. Angrily, she grabbed her ponytail and tugged the knife upwards, straight through it. Shaking out her hair, her curls only just brushed against the back of her neck. She put the knife down next to her and stared at the ponytail in her hand. It was then that the Winter Soldier appeared in the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold. There were still rules after all.

She could see his eyes looking between her and the ponytail. Natalia looked away.

"They killed her," she said, as if that was some sort of explanation.

Instead of responding, the Winter Soldier just nodded— no, James nodded. Something passed between them, wordless but understanding. And then he left, leaving Natalia alone again.

If they had wanted to break her, there was no longer any doubt. The Natalia that had dared try to make a friend was gone. They had made her a killer. And Natalia couldn't deny the satisfaction of feeling that man's life leave his body. But she had killed out of anger. Now she had to learn to kill without emotion. That would be easy enough, she thought.

They had left Natalia with nothing.


End file.
